


opposites attract and we’re the living proof of this.

by LLReid



Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novels)
Genre: ARFID, Canon LGBTQ Character, Dating, F/F, Fluff, Human/Vampire Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Requests, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLReid/pseuds/LLReid
Summary: Each chapter is inspired by a different song.~~~~~“Stop,” she deadpanned, glaring at him again. “I simply require a quick and concise explanation of the mortal holiday: Valentine’s Day. I have never celebrated before and the internet articles are insufferable—““And you wanna make it special for Anastasia?”“Indeed,” she nodded. “What is a typical, non-cheesy gift for this occasion?”“Valentine’s Day is the time for being cheesy! Being cheesy is part of it!,” Mathew chuckled. “Roses. Chocolates. Wine. Lingerie. Candle lit dinners. Teddy bears— just don’t break the bank.”“Should I not seek to spoil her?”“You should,” said Mathew, “but you gotta keep in mind that whilst Adrian pays well and did give her a raise on account of almost being murdered like twenty times since starting the job, she’s not making the billions you are. You wanna keep things in balance— it’s the thought that counts. Valentine’s Day is really just about showing her that you care.”
Relationships: Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Sayeed, Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Swann, Kamilah Sayeed/Main Character (Bloodbound)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 48





	1. swimming through the stars when i see her.

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT 1: My suggestion for future drabbles or even a book is for you to write about events that happened between Book 1 and Book 2, please, so we can fill this gap left by PB.
> 
> PROMPT 2: may I suggest about that 6 months stuff, a Valentines Date surprise by Kamilah??😅

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by; Nothing Really Matters by Mr. Probz.

“You summoned me, boss lady?,” Mathew smirked as he waltzed dramatically into Kamilah’s office before sweeping into a deep-waisted bow.

“Must you always be so dramatic?,” she sighed, eyeing the foolish twenty-year-old mortal that she’d hired to be her assistant a year prior for some ungodly reason she could no longer recall. The idiot was incompetent. Irritating. Insufferable. Infuriating. And so damn horny that his constant sexual innuendos echoed down every hallway of Ahmanet Financial and assaulted her delicate ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m majoring in theatre,” he shrugged. “It’s in the blood at this point— but anyway, what’s up?”

She rolled her eyes before settling him with a distinctly unimpressed glare. “You’re a mortal.”

His brow furrowed but unlike most mortals, who’d flinch at a vampire pointing out their mortality, he simply shrugged. “Last time I checked. Do you need to feed or something? I mean, being your blood donor wasn’t in the job description but—“

“Stop,” she deadpanned, glaring at him again. “I simply require a quick but concise explanation of the mortal holiday: Valentine’s Day. I have never celebrated before and the internet articles are insufferable—“

“And you wanna make it special for Anastasia?,” he asked rhetorically. 

At this point her romance with Adrian’s mortal assistant was common knowledge amongst employees at both Ahmanet Financial and Raines Corp — even the oblivious ones who weren’t privy to the existence of vampires knew. As did the Clans of New York know what was happening, as they could smell Anastasia’s scent on her at all times and hers marking the mortal as her own in turn. It may have only been four months since they’d met... but already rumours were flying that Kamilah intended to Turn the girl due to how different — how happy — she always seemed in her presence. 

“Indeed,” she nodded. “What is a typical, non-cheesy gift for this occasion?”

“Valentine’s Day is the time for being cheesy! Being cheesy is part of it!,” Mathew chuckled. “Roses. Chocolates. Wine. Lingerie. Candle lit dinners. Teddy bears— just don’t break the bank.”

Her brow furrowed. “Should I not seek to spoil her?”

“You should,” said Mathew, “but you gotta keep in mind that whilst Adrian pays well and did give her a raise on account of almost being murdered like twenty times since starting the job, she’s not making the billions you are. You wanna keep things in balance— it’s the thought that counts. Valentine’s Day is really just about showing her that you care.”

She nodded and drummed her perfectly manicured fingernails on her polished desktop, averting her eyes back to her computer screen. Evidently her original gift idea — that had been approved by none other than Lily Spencer — of an impromptu trip to Paris for a dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower might’ve been slightly over the top.

“I’ll keep that in mind— that’ll be all, Mathew.”

“Just lemme know if you want me to work my magic with her—“

“Your magic?,” she repeated, dumbfounded.

“We get along great when we work together for you and Adrian and I’m well on my way to becoming her gay work husband— I’m sure I could find out what she really wants.”

“Whilst the offer is kind, you’re far from discreet and she is much too intelligent to fall for your tricks. She’d know the moment you opened your mouth what you were up to.”

He snorted as he started off towards the door. “Damn. Do you really gotta call me out for being that sorta gay?”

“Apparently so,” she mumbled, her eyes never leaving her computer screen as the mortal left her in peace.

This would be so much easier if she knew what Anastasia was getting her. They’d already celebrated their first holiday together almost two months earlier on the Dark Solstice and had not discussed gifts beforehand, but they’d each gotten the other something perfect as a surprise. Somehow having actually discussed the idea of celebrating Valentine’s Day as a couple made it all the more daunting.

Many of the gifts she was looking at online seemed to include the word ‘love’ on them somewhere, which immediately took them out of the running. She wished she wasn’t so cowardly... but she was. 

When she was a younger woman she had gone to war searching for glory. She hadn’t found it. Then she’d come to New York, thinking she’d find glory if she built a financial empire or a thriving Clan. Instead she discovered that she didn't even know what glory was, not until Anastasia smiled at her for the first time with no fear in her eyes — and deep down she knew that she’d fallen for Anastasia the moment she’d first smiled at her like that, but she wasn’t ready to admit it to her yet.

Truth be told, love and all of its implications frightened her a great deal.

All she thought that she knew about love was what Gaius had taught her, yet it had took finding a gentle-hearted twenty-two year old mortal to teach her that she didn’t know a damn thing. All of the flings she’d had in her life... all of those years of suffering a bone-crushing case of Stockholm Syndrome... nothing could’ve prepared her for finding Anastasia.

What she felt for her was already far beyond the affection she’d held for other lovers she’d taken in the past. At the crest of each dawn she dreamt of being in her arms. When she tried to work, she crowded her thoughts. Before she drifted off to sleep she was the last person she thought of, and damn her if when she woke, she was not the first person she looked for. She knew this was already a deeper love than she’d ever imagined herself capable of bearing, not mere affection.

Love was about power. Who gave, who took. Who was willing to risk showing their true self— and that alone was a terrifying prospect to her. Would her sweet mortal run the moment she found out a monster slumbered deep inside? Would she shy away from her touch in horror the moment she discovered the true amount of blood staining her hands? All the terror she’d taken pride in causing?

Love was something she had banished from her life years ago out of necessity, but Anastasia made her yearn to be loved. However, in the mortal’s world, there was right and wrong, good and evil. Kamilah’s, on the other hand, contained no absolutes. Her’s was a world of greys. Hers was what the younger woman’s was truly becoming. The irony didn’t escape her at all. At night, nothing was clear. Lines blurred. Shadows removed definitions.

She wanted to change her past so that it would be easier to unveil to her, but even as she thought it, she realised it was her very dark past and the journey to overcome it that had shaped her into a woman who fascinated Anastasia.

The buzzing of her phone drew her attention away from the computer and the moment she saw Anastasia’s name followed by a ridiculous blue butterfly emoji, her eyes lit up. She was much too old to be grinning like an idiot at her cellphone, she was certain, but there she was: grinning like a bloody idiot on the Dark Solstice all because she’d received a text message from the person who’d very quickly become her favourite. 

‘Adrian got me a lab coat and is letting me do more sciency stuff because I accidentally solved another equation the guys in the lab have been stuck with!,’ the first text message followed by a dozen happy tears emojis said. ‘I thought he was joking when he said they were all stuck on it,’ the next message read. ‘I might’ve laughed in their faces completely by accident because I was so sure they were joking and then solved it in less than a minute— I’m 99% sure some of these boomers hate me because I’m smarter than them but I CANT EVEN CARE BECAUSE IM DOING SCIENCE AND MATH NOW.’ 

She couldn’t help but laugh when the last message was followed up by the emojis of a girl throwing both of her hands in the air. Once upon a time emojis would’ve irritated her to no end... but somehow with Anastasia she didn’t mind the fact that she could somehow communicate solely in the odd-looking cartoons if she wished it.

The messages were followed on by a selfie of her in a white lab coat with her name embroidered onto the left breast in black thread, and all she could do for a long moment was stare at the screen and try to catch her breath. This woman was... a masterpiece. A wonder. Truly the sort of beauty that had started wars and crumbled empires.

She sighed softly as she saved the image to her camera roll, heat blooming across her cheeks as she regarded her once more. Those eyes were just... astounding. She wished to stay drenched to the bone forever in those sparkly blue-as-the-rain eyes, submerged in those soul-piercing pools. Not moving a single muscle nor breathing. Just savouring the turquoise ache against her ancient and withered old heart that felt alive every time she was granted a single glance at her.

Her teeth clamped lightly on her bottom lip as she typed back her congratulations, even adding a little heart at the end— the black one, naturally, as it was the most sophisticated of the other offensively bright hearts. But before going back to searching for the perfect gift, she looked at the picture once again and smiled.

She wanted her. Now. She wanted her all night. Every night for a week. A month. A year— a thousand of them or more. She sank against the back of her chair and rubbed her eyes. 

“I’m in trouble,” she muttered below her breath, shaking her head all the while. 

And never had she believed a statement more.

It had been only nine hours since she and Anastasia had parted ways after spending the night at the mortal’s apartment... yet she somehow missed her. She knew it was unwise to allow herself to grow so attached to a woman who’d only live for mere decades without Turning, but damn it, she was attached.

She didn’t do this.

She simply did not grow attached to anything or anyone.

Attachments were for mortals, she had said for centuries. 

Yet here she was: so helplessly and hopelessly attached that she was already fearing the day that she’d inevitably lose her. In a world full of frivolous and painfully temporary things, the love she already bore this woman would be a perpetual thing.

It was wrong of her to already be quietly hoping that Anastasia would eventually ask to Turn. She would not wish an immortal life in the dark upon anyone... but now that she knew what it was to have her, how could she ever go back to being without her? 

It was unthinkable.

The saddest thing for those cursed to wander the world forever was having someone for a mere moment of time. To have them physically for only a minute, when they’d become their eternity.

Another sigh left her lips as she traced her outline with her thumb over the screen of her phone. Somehow she could still taste the sweetness of her lips and hear her breathy moans she’d drawn from her the night before ringing in her ears. Her eyes caught the mark she left on her neck peeking through her hair in the picture and she couldn’t stop the grin from slipping onto her face. There’d be no question as to who’d left it there... and that sent a primal jolt of pleasure surging through her.

‘How do you feel about another sleepover tonight?,’ she wrote to Anastasia. She quickly added, ‘I put you through the ringer last night so we don’t have to do anything. I simply wish to see you again.’

‘Sounds great. I’m already on my way home and was gonna get Chinese for dinner. What do you want?,’ Anastasia replied almost immediately. ‘And yeah I definitely need another night to recuperate cause THAT STRAP WAS SO FUCKING BIG MY THIGHS ARE LITERALLY STILL ACHING.’

She snorted as her fingers whizzed across her keyboard. ‘Surprise me with the food. I’ll pick up dessert as a consolation for the aching thighs... and that wasn’t even the biggest one I’ve bought.’

‘??? I’m oddly aroused by that thought,’ Anastasia texted back before another message appeared, ‘the dessert and whatever monster straps you’ve been buying.’

‘Behave yourself,’ she replied as she stood up and grabbed her blazer from the back of her chair. ‘I’m just leaving the office and am much too lazy to go upstairs to pack a comfortable outfit.’

Before she could even add another message Anastasia replied, ‘I’ll look out my black t-shirt you claim to hate.’

‘I do hate it,’ she wrote back. That was a lie. The oversized t-shirt was rather comfortable— so comfortable that she didn’t mind the gaudy Queen band crest on the front of it at all.

‘Oooookay.’

The Valentine’s Day shopping could wait, she rationalised as she wandered briskly through the halls of Ahmanet without a word to anyone as Mathew called the garage in the basement of her building to alert her driver she was leaving. She kept herself so far removed from her employees that everybody knew better than to try to strike up casual conversations about her weekend plans with her. The line in the sand was so deep it was a trench: she was their boss not their friend and she had absolutely no desire to change that.

Some might’ve thought it odd she was so, so distant... but she simply didn’t even know where to begin socialising with most mortals. So she didn’t even try. Work was for work, anyway. She was here to make money, not friends— there were precisely five individuals in the world she liked and that was all there was to it.

“I wish to stop at Lady M Confections before you take me to Annie’s,” she said as a means of greeting the Clan Sayeed underling waiting at the door of her Rolls Royce Ghost Diva Fenice Milano.

“What is her address?”

She sighed impatiently. Really, this imbecile should’ve had it imprinted in his memory now that he’d driven her there so many times. “240 East 10th Street— I suggest you try your best to recall it next time.”

“Of course— apologies, ma’am,” he said whilst starting the engine.

She intended to get the Signature Mille Crêpe cake for their dessert, having discovered that Anastasia enjoyed it whilst training with Lily not long after her protégé’s Turning. Her mortal’s eating habits were rather odd— it’d become apparent very early on that she hated almost everything and actually seemed nauseated by many textures. So once she found something she liked, she filed it away in her mind for a later date.

“Welcome to Lady M Confections,” a mortal said as soon as she stepped up to the counter in the upscale bakery, the sweet smell of all the desserts tickling at her nostrils. “My name is Emily, how can I help you tonight?”

“Just one of the six inch Signature Mille Crêpes, please,” she replied, glancing down at her phone as a message from Jax came through. It was something to do with Lily being drunk at The Shadow Den, so she simply deleted it and intended to pretend it had never arrived. Her protégé’s drunkenness was not her problem.

“Can I interest you in any of our Valentine’s Day specials?,” the mortal prodded.

She glanced up from her phone at the display case and saw a number of cakes all shaped like hearts. For a moment she felt optimistic that she may have found one item to include in her gift, but her heart sank the moment she saw that they were all chocolate flavoured. “Are they all chocolate?”

“Yes. We have them in milk chocolate, chocolate hazelnut, white chocolate, dark chocolate, ruby chocolate—“

“She hates chocolate,” she sighed, more to herself than the mortal. Clearing her throat she quickly said, “Uh, no. Just the Signature Mille Crêpes.”

“We take special orders, you know,” the mortal said whilst boxing up her dessert. “If whoever you’re buying for doesn’t like chocolate we can make a heart shaped cake in another flavour.”

She hummed softly. “What other flavours do you— she’s extremely picky.”

“If she hates chocolate we can make any of our other standard flavours; marron, green tea, red bean, pistachio, strawberry shortcake, red velvet, or earl grey.” Emily glanced up at her across the counter whilst tying a ribbon on the box. “We also do blueberry, raspberry panna cotta, mango, lemon, and medovik by request.”

“Medovik?,” she repeated, recalling Anastasia telling her that her grandfather had gotten her a medovik cake every year for her birthday before he’d passed away when she was six. It was an Eastern staple. Something that would remind her of the happier days of her childhood, she was certain. “Can I order one of those in the shape of a heart?”

“Of course,” Emily smiled. “For valentine’s day we can also fill the box with fresh strawberries— they’re usually covered in chocolate but we can also do a yogurt coating or a powdered sugar—“

“She also hates strawberries and yogurt,” she interjected.

The mortal woman’s jaw dropped slightly when she said that and she shook her head, laughing. “You really weren’t kidding when you said she was picky— that’ll be $100.”

She pulled up the wallet on her phone and went about paying as the box was slid across the counter. 

“You can pick up the medovik any time after 10am on the 14th,” Emily said. “Can I just get your surname for the order form?”

“Sayeed,” she responded.

“Awesome,” the girl smiled. “Well, I hope you enjoy your desserts. Come again.”

She nodded politely and without another word headed back to her waiting car. The moment she sat down in the back seat she added the pick-up to her calendar and then pulled up the notes app on her phone, just to double check medovik wasn’t on the 346 bullet point secret-list she had written down of foods that Anastasia didn’t like.

It occurred to her then that it probably would’ve been simpler to write down the foods she did like— but either way, part of being a good partner was making an effort to learn these things about your other half. 

Thankfully, medovik did not appear on her list. However she was startled by the last addition to the list that she had no recollection of typing. The date on the note was the week before on the night she’d gotten wine drunk with Anastasia whilst playing a mortal game called Twister. It was highly specific, reading: FEEDING HER BANANAS WILL MAKE HER HATE YOU FOREVER, YOU FOOL! DO NOT EVER FEED HER BANANAS OR ALLOW ANYONE TO EAT ONE IN HER PRESENCE OR SHE WILL VOMIT IMMEDIATELY! THIS IS A KNIVES SITUATION. STABBING DIRECTLY IN THE CAROTID IS THE ONLY PUNISHMENT BEFITTING THIS CRIME.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Evidently Drunk Kamilah did not know how to control the caps lock on her keyboard.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Tony,” she said to her chauffeur as she got out. “You needn’t pick me up later.”

She practically sprinted into the apartment building, excited to see the person who always made her smile after socialising with people she didn’t like all day. Somehow Anastasia’s company wasn’t draining at all— normally she had a fixed limit of how much socialisation she could tolerate before needing her alone time the way she needed blood to live. Yet being with Anastasia felt as therapeutic as being alone after a long day had always been... and she couldn’t quite work out how that was possible.

Even in her mortal life she’d been so introverted she’d once barricaded herself in a storage room in Antirhodos just to be completely by herself. But she never seemed to reach that limit with Anastasia. The girl made her burn with life, and yearn to set aside her cold and distant, solitary ways.

“Annie?,” she said as she wandered into the small apartment that overlooked The East Village, immediately smelling the Chinese food boxed up on the table.

“In here!,” Anastasia called from her bedroom. “I’m just changing— the t-shirt that you wear a lot for someone who hates it is on the bed.”

She sat the dessert down beside the other take out boxes and wandered through to the bedroom to be greeted by the sight of Anastasia digging through one of her drawers in her underwear. The marks of passion she’d left behind the night before stood out, proud badges of honour against her pale skin. Her knees began to shake, not only because the mortal was beautiful, but because coming into this room with her there waiting for her… it was like coming home.

The ancient vampire took hold of her easily, and whisked her away into a languid ecstasy of reverie. Her lips met hers in an open mouthed kiss and her fingers threaded through the long strands of coppery hair spilling down to her waist.

Being held by her, kissed and mastered, taken under and swept away, enthralled her in a way she — an independent woman if nothing else in this life — could not have understood until forced to understand. From the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, finally, a woman owned her entirely.

Suddenly, she understood why women wanted so deeply. Why every vampire who set eyes upon this woman wanted her. If they sensed even one-tenth of her passion, her power, her vitality, they would break her door down to get at her.

Anastasia murmured something sweet and unintelligible, the pair of shorts she’d pulled out of the drawer dropping to the wooden floor with a soft thump. The arm around her waist beneath her blazer tightened, the other climbing, her nimble fingers delving into her hair and tilting her head as she deepened the kiss, drawing down on her bottom lip and sucking. 

Instinct had her following her lead, shifting to better accommodate, parrying each thrust of her tongue with her own. Anastasia rose on the tips of her toes to better sink into her, to gorge herself in vast, voracious gulps. The frantic nature of their joining melted her stiff posture and her confident bearing, rolling through her in a languid, glorious wave of sensation and recognition. 

“Hi,” Anastasia giggled, nipping her bottom lip as her hands now playfully tugged on the lapels of her blazer.

She placed a lingering kiss on her forehead and sighed softly whilst rocking her gently from side to side. Anastasia was the sunshine that could touch and kiss her skin, that she could hold tight without getting burnt. When she spoke the subtlest little smile tugged at her lips and her voice was barely a whisper, “Hi.”

“I missed you,” Anastasia murmured, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

Her smile widened as she leaned down to press a kiss to her bare shoulder, her finger tracing the silky black fabric of her bra strap. “I missed you too,” she mumbled into her skin. Saying that she missed her was understating exactly how she’d felt that day at work. She’d wanted her near with everything she had — every heartbeat, every breath, every empty moment she wasn’t by her side.

Anastasia leaned back to look her in the eyes and when she did, Kamilah skimmed her fingers over her cheek— tentative in her gentle exploration. Then she pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. It was light, tender, sweet, and soothing. Emotions clogged her throat and clenched in her chest, all the while.

For a long time, they simply held each other, foreheads pressed together, breathing matched. They were one body, bound by the growing bond between them. Kamilah knew she’d never felt so close to a lover before. For love, she now knew, wasn’t found in words. It was found in quiet moments; a look, a sigh, a smile, a gladness. As if she sensed those deeper thoughts, Anastasia kissed her cheek with such gentleness that it brought tears to her eyes and then withdrew from her.

“Would it be too much of an imposition if I just decided to spend the entire weekend here?,” she smirked as they began getting dressed. “I didn’t realise how many of my clothes were here.” A startled laugh left the back of her throat as she noticed Anastasia had actually hung a lot of her stuff up at one side of her tiny closet. “I have outfit options that aren’t two sizes too small— but this ugly t-shirt is still mine.”

Anastasia laughed musically and she didn’t need to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. “That means you’d be obligated to come to Whole Foods with me tomorrow— on the subway. We’re not rolling up to Whole Foods in a Rolls Royce driven by a vampire in a tuxedo and top hat.”

She huffed, pulling a pair of comfortable skinny fit grey sweatpants she’d left here at some point from the closet. “You just want someone to carry your bags.”

“What good is that vampire super strength if you can’t carry a few grocery bags?,” Anastasia beamed, clenching her non existent arm muscles. “I mean, I’m pretty buff myself and—“ She cut off immediately as she wrapped her hand around her upper arm, touching her middle finger to her thumb with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” she laughed, clenching her own well defined upper arm muscles. 

“I can do exactly one third of a push-up with these babies,” Anastasia boasted, kissing her twig-like arm with all the pride in the world. 

“And which third is that?”

“The one where you face plant the floor and pretend to be dead while the gym teacher yells at you about how you’re gonna fail at life if you don’t do ten push-ups by the end of the period— I never mastered the pushing part. Or the up part.”

She snorted and her dark gaze held hers, amused at her twisted, pained expression. “So you just lay face down on the floor?”

“No,” Anastasia gasped, feigning shock. “I also convulsed.”

At that she laughed out loud and Anastasia’s eyes sparkled at her. Though they’d only been seeing each other a short time, the mortal knew that she rarely laughed. Each and every laugh she managed to draw from her so effortlessly was a gift.

“I have to see this now.”

“You want me to demonstrate my acting skills?”

“I’d rather not see you convulsing on the floor, thank you very much,” she huffed, her delicate brows drawing together. “But I need to see your attempt at a push-up.”

Anastasia rubbed her hands together and took a deep breath. “Prepare to be amazed.”

She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing as Anastasia sank to the floor and pressed both of her palms against the wood... then just sort of froze. Her arms began to shake and she cursed below her breath in Russian, and that was all it took for her to burst out laughing at her.

“I thought you were exaggerating!,” she spluttered.

“I feel like I’m doing it— am I doing it?”

She was, very much indeed, not doing it. 

She was not even close to doing it.

So Kamilah decided to take matters into her own hands. She stepped over her so that one of her legs were on either side of her hips and bent down to clasp her hands around her ribs. She effortlessly began pulling her up, supporting all of her weight. “Now you’re doing it.”

“I’ve peaked!,” Anastasia giggled. “I’ll be ready for the Olympics any day now!”

They both started laughing hysterically and Anastasia flopped in her grasp, now unable to support herself the little she was already. She rolled her over, sank down to hover over her, and cupped her cheek as her hair tumbled over them both. More than anything in this world, she wanted this woman to be happy. She’d give her anything, do anything to make her happy. Even if it made her own life hell.

Anastasia reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears, smiling at her in her adoration. This was a moment she’d remember for as long as she lived. Even if Anastasia aged. Even if she lost her somehow. Her memories of this moment would never change, would never age.

“Dinner will be getting cold,” she said breathily as Anastasia kissed her jaw.

“Mhm.”

She sighed and her eyes fluttered closed. The feeling of her lips wandering over the contours of her face— this was how galaxies collided.

Anastasia cradled her face between her hands, angled her mouth over hers, and she welcomed the bliss she offered. Boldly, she gave her tongue the freedom to roam within her mouth. She sighed. She moaned.

She could become spoiled touching her like this. So much so, she might never want to touch anyone else again. No one else was warm like her. No one else had ever altered her shape with the gentlest of pressures. No one else had breathed so she could feel their moisture on her face. No one else had ever made such soft sounds that she'd carry with her until the day she died.

She’d built a wall around her heart to protect it, and Anastasia was slowly brick by brick, smile by smile, laugh by laugh, kindness by kindness, tearing it down.


	2. i love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt.

“You have dragged me to no less twenty-seven stores,” Adrian sighed wearily, chasing after her as she stormed down Fifth Avenue in search of the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. “You must’ve seen something satisfactory enough—“

“Nothing I’ve seen is even half-way to being worthy of her,” she pouted. “It would be so much easier if I knew what I was receiving but Jax and Lily will not tell me what she has gotten me— the only reasonable solution to this problem is breaking into her apartment to search—“

“You’re not breaking into Anastasia’s apartment, Kamilah,” deadpanned Adrian. 

“But—“ 

“Relax,” he soothed. “Valentine’s Day is still three days away—“

“My first Valentine’s Day with Annie is not something that should be planned in three days!,” she huffed. “I’ve been looking for the perfect gift for weeks and nothing seems good enough— you’d think the mortals would stock their stores with better goods at a time like this!” She gestured to a window display of teddy bears and chocolates in heart-shaped boxes in complete and utter exasperation. “She deserves far more than these tacky trinkets the foolish mortals in charge of this holiday seem to believe symbolise love— what the hell do stuffed bears have to do with anything?!”

He sighed and placed both hands on her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what you get her—“

“Adrian—“

“Let me finish.” He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what you get her, it only matters that it comes from your heart. You could give her a dozen of those ridiculous stuffed bears and she’d love them because you’d be the one presenting them to her.”

She heaved a sigh, knowing that what her brother said was true. However, whilst she didn’t yet know the true circumstances surrounding her mortal’s upbringing, she knew that she wasn’t accustomed to receiving heartfelt gifts at all... so she wanted to make her feel important. She wanted to make her feel seen and known by presenting her with the perfect item that perfectly symbolised her love without actually having to muster the courage to say those three words. 

Most people were slow to champion love because they feared the transformation it would brings into their lives, and Kamilah was no different. As she wandered from store to store and saw that L-word everywhere she turned, she wondered what life might be like if she did manage to say it to her precious mortal. What might they become?

Already their connection had taken over and transformed the schemes and operations of her ancient ego in a very mighty way, but how would things change if she managed to summon the strength to allow her walls to come down entirely? Anastasia’s patience with her was a virtue too good for this world, the mortal allowed her to set the pace and never pushed things too far despite seeing clearly that she was the only thing holding herself back.

“What about this?,” Adrian said as he held up a book of poetry on display in Bloomingdales. He cleared his throat and read, “If I say your voice is an amber waterfall in which I yearn to burn each day, if you eat my mouth like a mystical rose with powers of healing and damnation. If I confess that your body is the only civilisation I long to experience… would it mean that we are close to knowing something about love?”

“Valentine's Day is the poet's holiday, it seems,” she sighed. “Read me another.”

“Let her know you adore her. Do not make her heart guess. Boldly say how you love her. Thy devotion confess. Let her know you admire her, all her talents and dreams. Boldly reach for her fingers. Gently slip on a ring. Let her know that you need her, as a lover and friend. Boldly kneel and implore her, to be yours ’til the end.”

She froze and simply stared at him. Were her feelings truly that obvious?

“I—“

“I’ve known you for centuries,” he said before she could formulate an intelligent response to the poem he’d chosen to read. “Anastasia found you at a time when you were a shell of yourself and still thought you marvellous, regardless of everything else. She’s not a cure for all you’ve been through and all you’re trying to heal from but the fact that she’s loving you through it—“

“Loving me?,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. “She doesn’t— she’s never said—“

“A thing does not have to be spoken for it to be true,” he said, placing the book back on the table. “Anyone with a set of eyes can see how she looks at you— there are many who’d sell their soul to the devil himself to have her look at them that way...”

“And,” she turned away from him and ran the wine red silk of a sexy negligé between her fingers, already knowing the answer to the question she was about to ask, “you are one of them... aren’t you?”

His breath caught in his throat before he released it in a shaky sigh. “You know I would never get in the middle—“

“I know,” she interjected, taking a deep breath. “I know.”

“My feelings for her are irrelevant, she has chosen you and I could not be happier for you,” he said after a moment. “I have two options in this world. I can allow what is happening around me to control me, to break me, to destroy me and make me a twisted, angry shell of a man, as it has done to so many others. Or I can rise above it. There is a degree of sadness around me, but there is so much beauty, too.” He paused. “I choose to rise above it and be a friend to you both— I just... I need to hear you say exactly what it is you’re feeling for her.”

“Adrian, I know I have a habit of running from my emotions the moment they grow too large or too unfamiliar—“

“You don’t just run from them,” he said, “you shut down entirely and push people away with such force— I just do not want to see the woman we both love get hurt.” He stared at her, his wide eyes silently pleading to her. “Promise me,” he continued, “that you will not hurt her.”

“I’m so skilled at convincing people of lies, but I don’t know how to convince you of the truth.”

“Just say it,” he said softly. 

“In a world full of temporary things, the love I bear her is a perpetual feeling.” She stared at him for a long while with so much intensity that she didn’t even blink. “In my more than two thousand years of darkness she appeared like a full moon and a starry sky. She is my dream, brother. I just didn't know it. She is the missing part of me that I was always searching for— and I would sooner lay down my life than hurt her.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his eyes burning into hers, silently expressing gratitude. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good,” she said evenly. “I hope you do— I am determined to be worthy of her and I am aware that requires that I be a far stronger and better woman than I had ever planned to be. Gaius shall always remain the one I once believed to be the love of my youth, the one for whom I sold my soul to the devil. But Anastasia, my beloved Annie, shall always be the centre of my heart, the one who, in my final hour, will have made my life worth living.”

Adrian’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded slowly. “Tell her that.”

“I—“ She looked away from him and sighed, wondering if either of them truly understood the cost of what he was telling her to do. Shame, when she was younger, had often stopped her from saying what she felt. Fear, as she grew older, now often trapped the truth within her. “Soon. I will tell her soon.”

She didn’t complain about the lack of acceptable gifts again. Knowing exactly how Adrian felt was a very different thing than the mere suspicions she’d had before then— and one did not complain about having in abundance that which others wished so desperately to obtain. 

Had anyone else confessed their love of Anastasia the way he did, they’d have ceased breathing the moment the words left their lips. But when he said he’d never get in the way of them, she knew she could trust in him. She knew he would never pursue Anastasia or let her so much as suspect his true feelings... and for that she was glad.

She’d spent many a night thinking that her sweet mortal deserved more than a broken old woman in need of reforming... and Adrian was, well, as damn close to being the male version of Anastasia as it was possible to be. They were both levelheaded, kindhearted, generous, humble, and so smart that their conversations required at least three degrees to be able to follow. In her less than fine moments she’d convinced herself that he’d be better for her— in her whole life all she’d done was destroy, and she often feared herself incapable of goodness. Like she was somehow masquerading as a slightly better version of herself than she’d ever been before, fooling everyone around her into a sense of security and peace whilst Gaius’ bloody queen clawed beneath the surface of her skin, begging for release.

She wanted so much to be good for Anastasia. To be a woman she might be proud to one day call hers, officially.

No woman in her long and twisted history could compare to her Annie. No woman in her future could replace her. She was what she wanted now, this moment and the next, and the one that followed that, each one that led to the end of her many lifetimes of wandering the Earth. 

As she walked around these packed stores, she vowed to herself and the gods she’d long since stopped believing in that she would make it happen. She would keep her with her— she would be worthy of her. She didn't know how. She would lie, she would cheat, she would stab, she would steal. If need be, she would burn the world to the ground. Through her highly uncharacteristic actions she’d confessed to all that saw them together that she held her heart. She’d yet to tell her that she possessed her soul.

She’d deceived herself when she began this journey by believing that she simply sought a fling, a night of companionship that would end her infatuation with the girl. All along all she'd sought was her heart and soul.

“Look at these,” she said as they approached a wall lined with large framed star maps marked with different dates of the past year. “This is... interesting.”

“They’re certainly beautiful.”

Her face lit up when she saw one printed with the date she had met Anastasia: October 10th. She’d expected to be so enraptured by a piece of jewellery or a set of sexy lingerie, not a piece of home decor, but something about giving her Annie a little piece of the sky on the night light had finally entered her life seemed oddly poetic.

She swallowed thickly as she stared at the mapped constellations. She hadn’t actually looked up at the sky that night and even if she had, being in Manhattan, she wouldn’t have seen a damn thing worth seeing— but somehow these printed ghosts of the stars that had burnt like white-hot embers on that night were one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

They were a reflection of the night her life had been changed. 

A physical marker of the before and after.

Symbols of hope.

“I think this might be the thing I’ve been searching for,” she breathed. “Do you— she will like it, won’t she?”

“She spent three hours today explaining to me how Raines Corp could ‘do space’ better than Elon Musk,” Adrian chuckled. “I’m not even joking when I say that it was one of the most bizarre conversations of my life—“

“Do space?,” she echoed.

“Kamilah, she literally pitched three rockets, five telescopes, a lightweight space suit, a satellite, at least four deep space probes, and a whole new space station concept that are decades— possibly even centuries ahead of any of the current space technology.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Her enthusiasm for the stars is an inspiring thing. So I think merely saying that she will like this would be understating just how much it will mean to her.”

A soft smile spread across her lips and she nodded, her eyes drifting back to the framed picture on the wall. “So are you doing space then?”

“I’d need another few centuries of constant studying to keep pace with her,” he said. “Everything she said was astounding on a scientific level— she’s so intelligent that she had to explain her ideas to me in laymen’s terms.”

“You? Laymen’s terms? Well I never—“

“She’s really that smart,” he interrupted with a laugh. “The ideas she presented me with were so out of the box that several of my most qualified scientists came to me afterwards with the idea of starting a fund to send her to grad school to study astrophysics and possibly biochemistry from the best professors in the country, as she’s expressed just as much enthusiasm in biochem as she has astrophysics— she’s working far, far below her station as my assistant.”

She was filled with pride and actually felt excited for Anastasia. This was something that would absolutely thrill her to the bone. This woman had every right to complain about her life, the harshness of it. Instead she met it head-on and worked hard to make it better for herself, but education at the level that would challenge her was extremely expensive and to have people now recognising her brilliance and wanting to help her achieve her dreams was a huge thing.

“Does she know?”

“No,” he said. “She—“

“I want to pitch in— I’ll contribute whatever you need to send her to the best school without accumulating any more debts she’ll have to repay,” she said without missing a beat. “Anonymously, of course, as she’d never accept it knowing I’d donated what she considers to be a lot of money.”

“Are you sure you want to do it anonymously?,” he gasped.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want thanks or for her to feel indebted to me— I simply want to see her happy and reaching her full potential. I can’t pretend to understand the first thing about astrochemistry or biophysics—“

“Biochemistry and astrophysics,” Adrian corrected her with a soft smile.

“That’s what I said,” she huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “If this will bring her happiness, then it will bring me happiness too.”

She meant every word, Anastasia’s happiness was her happiness. The mortal’s fulfilment was her fulfilment. She had no idea of what her each and every smile gave her, no idea that her warmth reminded her of how the sunlight felt washing over her skin. When she’d been young, she had always wished for things in the future, but now that she’d reached 2063 years old... she wished for things from the past too— and Anastasia somehow reminded her of all the wonderful feelings of ancient days gone by whilst making her frighteningly hopeful for the future.

After buying her star map and having it shipped to her penthouse and then finishing browsing the sprawling halls of Bloomingdales, she and Adrian wandered the streets of New York simply enjoying each other’s company and conversation. Her immediate impulse was to head straight to Anastasia’s apartment but she refrained, remembering that her mortal was attending a Queen concert in Madison Square Garden with Jax and Lily that night — they’d both been invited, but considered themselves much too sophisticated to spend an evening in something called a Mosh Pit.

So they walked.

And walked.

And smiled much too widely when she received a picture from Lily of Anastasia sat on Jax’s shoulders at the concert— wearing the ugly black t-shirt she’d claimed as her own. Somehow it looked good on her. The woman could literally make a potato sack look good, so she wasn’t sure why she was surprised at all.

They walked far enough and long enough that she eventually received a text message from Anastasia. It was an address and the simple words: ‘If you come meet us there is a White Russian with your name on it. The bar is really chill, no mewling mortals worth stabbing in the eyes, I promise.’

Of course they went straight to the bar Anastasia was in. Her desire to be near to her drawing her downtown like a siren call.

“Sugar Mama Sayeed! The Man Christian Grey Wishes He Was!,” Lily screamed as she and Adrian wandered into the gay bar. Her voice carried over the Indie music from across the dimmed room, drawing the attention and cheers of intoxicated mortals who hadn’t the slightest idea who they were messing with. “Damn!”

“We were taking bets on whether you’d show or not,” Jax beamed at them as he kicked out two stools for them at the table the two of them were sitting at.

“He was like, hell nah. And I was like, hell yeah. Then he was like, hell nah— Then Anastasia pointed out that I’m so stoned I can taste sounds!,” Lily beamed. “Did you know Bohemian Rhapsody tastes like spicy-as-fuck fajitas?! Cause I fucking didn’t—“

“Not that the notion of Bohemian Rhapsody tasting like fajitas isn’t thrilling conversation,” she interjected, “but where is Annie?”

“I’m here,” Anastasia said as she wrapped her arms around her waist from behind and kissed the back of her head. “I went to the bathroom and somehow wound up talking about Batman with like seven drunk butch lesbians— I was invited to one bachelorette party and to a Hozier concert.”

“How is it you seem to make friends wherever you go?,” Kamilah sighed happily, leaning in to peck the mortal’s lips as she perched on the stool next to her.

“I have no idea!,” Anastasia laughed softly whilst pulling her hair over her shoulders to avoid sitting on it. The entire length of her normally wavy hair had been straightened, so now hung all the way to her ass. 

“You should’ve seen her at the concert!,” Jax chuckled. “She somehow got talking to the people around us and they wound up letting us take their spots closer to the stage— and these were hardcore fans I think were standing next to me at Live Aid back in ‘85. Those sorta guys would sooner punch a nun that give up those spots.”

She shook her head in bemusement as she reached out and combed her fingers through the silky smooth length of Anastasia’s hair, marvelling at the way it glistened in the light. “Have you eaten?,” she asked gently.

“Not yet,” Anastasia replied as she slid the White Russian on the middle of the table towards her with a smile. 

“I was gonna order loaded french fries and jalapeño poppers for the table,” Jax said. “Anyone want anything else?”

“Normal french fries for me but the curly ones,” Anastasia said. “No ketchup or anything else but lots of salt.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like ketchup?”

“I hate it everywhere but the American version tastes especially like melted plastic with lots of sugar mixed in.”

“Damn,” he laughed. “I’m looking at you in a whole new light, kid.”

“I’ll come with you and buy a round of beers,” Adrian smiled.

“Imma go play the claw machines again, there’s a great white shark with a moustache I need to add to my stuffed animal collection— Imma name him Gerard The Gay Shark because he sure as shit ain’t a straight shark,” Lily beamed. “Kamilahhhhhh—“

“Lily,” she sighed, already fishing in her pockets for change. All she had was three $100 bills, so she handed her one and said, “This will keep you occupied for quite some time— but you will be on your best behaviour afterwards, are we understood?”

In lieu of actually answering verbally Lily threw her arms round her in a bone crushing hug before sprinting away with the bill held high above her head, screaming about how rich she was. All she could do was sigh in dismay. Literally, that was all she could do— there were simply no words.

“I’m glad you came,” Anastasia said before taking a small sip out of what looked to be some sort of fruity cocktail. Her accent sounded a little thicker than normal and she immediately realised this wasn’t her first drink— of course her accent thickened when she drank a lot. It did it a little when she was tired but she’d never seen her with more than one or two drinks in her system before and it was... really very adorable.

“Just couldn’t enjoy your night without me, hmm?,” she smirked, resting her chin on her hand. “Is my company really that exceptional?”

Anastasia stirred her cocktail with the tiny decorative umbrella sticking out of the side, and when she spoke, her voice blended in with the roar of the music and the soft clinking of the ice cubes swirling around in her glass. “I always have more fun when you’re around.”

“You should watch your words, Annie.” She took a sip of her drink, her burning gaze trailing a searing line across Anastasia’s face over the rim of her glass. “Otherwise I shall take them to heart.”

A soft sigh left Anastasia lips. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“You seem to be flirting with me,” she teased.

“I only seem to be flirting? Then I have to put in a greater effort so I leave no doubt,” Anastasia smirked, leaning close enough that she could smell the fruit infused vodka from her cocktail on her breath. “You’re beautiful and I’m very attracted to you.”

She leaned in a little closer, much too amused for her own good. “You’re also very, very tipsy and bordering on being very, very drunk.”

“Drunk people are the most honest.”

She let out a soft laugh and placed her hand in the mortals. Hers seemed so tiny next to hers, and when she closed her fingers around it, she was incredibly aware that she could easily break her with very little effort. With her free hand, she cradled her face, and stroked her cheek with her thumb.

“How many drinks have you had?,” she murmured before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Seven— no.... um... vosem'—“

“Eight?,” she chuckled. “You’ve had enough to drink that you’ve forgotten the word for eight?”

“Vosem' is better word— a better word, damn it!” Anastasia pouted then grumbled, “English is a stupid language anyway and vosem’ makes more sense to me than eight. Russian is a sensible language. English is just crazy.”

Kamilah snorted and the mortal immediately blushed and started to giggle. She leaned in and buried her face in the crook of her neck to try to hide the fact her cheeks were so pink, which only made both of their laughter stronger.

“So are we just speaking in Russian now?,” she cooed in her ear. “You know, because English is so crazy...”

“Da.”

“Well my Russian is horribly out of practice and my accent needs work.”

“Ty govorish' na Kazakhskom?”

“No, I don’t speak any Kazakh so you’ll have to teach me sometime.”

“Ya budu,” Anastasia promised. “Skoro.”

“I hope you know there is absolutely no way I am leaving you to your own devices tonight,” she murmured, stroking her hair with every word. “But since you’re wearing my t-shirt I’m stealing the big flannel shirt I wore on the night you taught me to play Mario Kart on your Switch.”

Anastasia glanced up at her and gave her a whimsical smile. “I’d apologise for getting drunk but you looked really cute and cosy in that flannel so I’m not even sorry at all now.”

Cute and cosy. That was certainly a compliment than she’d never heard before.

“You don’t have to apologise to me for having fun,” she breathed, tilting her chin up so she was looking right into her face. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, alright?”

Anastasia sighed happily and nodded, humming softly in response as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as Kamilah traced the outline of her lips with her thumb. She was sure her memories would be somewhat hazy come morning. 

“Because you’re incredibly important to me,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you? I care for you a great deal.”

Anastasia’s expression softened and she nodded slowly. She reached up and caressed her cheek, doing the soothing thing with thumb against her cheekbone that she did when they were laying in bed together. “I know, Kami, and I care for you, too. You make me very happy.”

“That’s all I want to do,” she said softly, in a voice that promised a thousand pleasures. Her eyes captured and held hers, and she thought that even if she wasn't holding her, she'd not have been able to break away. “I’m not nearly as brave as I profess to be, that’s why I’m telling you this now when there is every chance you will not remember it in the morning...”

“You’re braver than you think,” Anastasia breathed.

She smiled and pressed her brow to hers. “If only that were true— I’ve done things that made me feel like I had the courage of a thousand lions but now I realise made me nothing more than a coward.”

“Bad things?,” Anastasia slurred.

“Things that if you knew— you’d never look at me the same way. Things that I’ll one day have to summon the courage to look you in the eye whilst I explain them to you so you can decide if you truly want to be with a woman like me.” She paused, noticing enough of the alcohol had been absorbed into the mortal’s bloodstream that her eyes were now glazed over entirely— there was surely no way she’d recall even a word of this conversation come dawn. “You would do good to keep in mind there is a good reason all the vampires in New York are so afraid of me, Annie.”

Anastasia’s heavy eyelids fluttered and she gave her the same sweet smile she always did, even in her drunken state. That smile that had always warmed her, it threatened to bring her to her knees. She would kill to keep that smile on her face. To keep her Annie smiling, she would willingly die.

“I may not know the whole of your story,” Anastasia said after a moment, “but I know you— and it is not my place to judge who you were or what you did centuries ago.” She kissed the bridge of her nose. “I know who you are now— I’ve known my share of monsters and you are not one of them.”

“Annie—“

“There's a difference between being good and doing bad things, and being truly bad. Sometimes, a person does something because she doesn't have a choice. She might not like what she did... but it doesn't make her bad,” she interrupted. “So when you’re ready to talk, I promise that there is nothing you can’t tell me.”

Her sweet mortal stole her breath, as stealthily as a pickpocket slipping a silk handkerchief from a pocket, a diamond bracelet from around a wrist, a ring off a finger. So the object was gone before the wearer realised it had even been taken. One moment she was breathing, and the next she’d quite simply forgotten how.

Her words almost brought tears to her eyes. 

Of course she was as sweet a drunk as she was sober.

She closed the distance between their lips and her tongue toyed with her mouth, painting it, outlining it as though she was not already intimately familiar with it. Anastasia urged her lips apart and delved into the depths of her mouth with an urgency that astounded her. 

She could taste the innumerable fruity drinks she’d consumed and immediately realised she’d had far more than eight, yet she kissed her still. She tried to express the three words she desperately wanted to say as she explored every inch of her, every nook, every cranny, every hidden corner. When Anastasia met the thrust of her tongue with a thrust of her own, she groaned low and pressed her against her chest. Through the thin linen of her blouse and the mortal’s well-worn t-shirt, she could feel the thudding of her heart, sense its increase in tempo.

Anastasia wobbled slightly on her stool as they broke for air and she clutched her tighter to keep her steady as the alcohol she’d consumed continued to reach her bloodstream.

“I’m not a brave woman; I’ll never be a hero, but I love you more than life itself,” she whispered, realising with complete certainty now that she would not recall a moment of this conversation, “and I will until the day I die. With you by my side, I’m a better woman than I’ve ever been alone. I’m scared to death that I’ll let you down, but I won’t run. I’ll stand firm and face the challenge and work hard to see that you never have any regrets.”

“Do you remember when I told you I wanted to be a real scientist one day?,” Anastasia whispered. “You told me that you wanted to share a corner of my dream. Without you, Kami, I have no dream. With you, I have everything I could ever dream of wanting— I love you, too. I love you very much.”

She shook her head in disbelief... drunk people were the most honest, after all. 

There was nothing in this life that had felt better to her than having her love for Anastasia reciprocated. 

Anastasia let out a watery laugh. “I’m so drunk I won’t remember you saying this to me—“

“I know,” she murmured, kissing her forehead. “I’m not a brave woman... yet. But one day, my darling, I will tell you how much I love you everyday. I will leave no doubt in your mind that you own me, heart and soul.”

One day she’d summon the courage to say those words over when she was sober and able to remember. One day she’d shout them from the rooftops without shame. Without fear. Without regret.

She leaned in so close to her lips that their breath mingled and whispered, “Can I keep you?”

Anastasia cradled her cheek and turned her head slightly, until their gazes met, and replied, “Forever.”


	3. this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Starry Starry Night by Lianne La Havas.

“Annie, if you walk me into one more wall— I swear, so help me god, I will stab you—“

Kamilah was cut off the moment her body hit yet another wall and Anastasia’s girlish laughter filled the air. Given she had somehow decided to trust this little brat to blindfold her and lead her through the streets of Manhattan to some mysterious location, she couldn’t see a god damn thing and had very quickly lost track of all the twists and turns they were taking. Though her lack of spacial awareness didn’t really bother her any, as the fact that her sweet mortal had meticulously planned some sort of date for her was far too thrilling for her mood to be soured by anything less than a disaster of apocalyptic proportions.

She huffed. “Somehow I do not think this is part of the typical Valentine’s Day traditions.”

“That’s what you get for eating all of the gummy bears I’d hidden in my desk drawer— I didn’t even know you liked gummy bears?”

“Nor did I,” she chuckled. “I’d never tasted them until earlier. They’re really quite a pleasant mortal snack food.”

Anastasia kissed her knuckles and hummed softly. “Yeah, they are— okay, we’re here.”

“Does that mean I get to take this blindfold off? Or do you plan on shoving me in front of a coming taxi first?”

“I’m not that evil!,” Anastasia laughed.

“Mhm.”

Anastasia huffed as she moved behind her and undid the knot behind her head, and when the blindfold fell away she was standing at the foot of the steps in front of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

“There is a ball here tonight,” Anastasia murmured, smiling as well dressed couples wandered up the red carpeted stairs and into the museum, “but thats not why we’re here. You told me a few weeks ago that your favourite Van Gogh painting was The Starry Night and that you preferred experiences rather than physical gifts...”

Her brow furrowed as she turned to look at the mortal. The skies overhead were overcast. As the cars rumbled along the road behind them, she watched the shadows weave in and out, dance over and around her as she gazed between her and up at the museum. And blast it all if she didn't envy their ability to touch her so lightly.

“I did,” she said. “But it’s at The Museum of Modern Art... this is The Met...”

“Well spotted,” Anastasia winked as she led her up the stairs.

She all but held her breath as she waited for her to explain, but she didn’t. Or to leave her side in her obvious excitement just so she would no longer see her girlish delight — that she felt was embarrassing — at the museum and the contents that awaited them. 

Instead, she slipped her hand into the crook of her elbow and looked up at her with those same shining eyes and wide, real smile. “I can’t wait another moment to show you — shall we go in?” 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move on her own as she stared into her eyes and saw so much beauty, so much truth… but then she nodded her head and Anastasia led her into the museum. This was a rare opportunity. She refused to miss a moment of it while she pondered what the hell she had done in her life to deserve it.

Anastasia led her through the bustling party, past mortal lovers entwined in each other’s arms moving gracefully in rhythm with the music. Immediately she spotted Lily cutting quite a swath through a group of ladies, and a few vampires she recognised from other clans.

“What is this party exactly?,” she asked.

“Some app developers thing— I don’t know exactly. Lil said it was a bunch of people who live in their parents basement’s way to get laid,” Anastasia chuckled as she led her into a plain white hall. The walls were white. The floor was white. There were no paintings on the wall. No statues erected in the corners. It was just white, with a candlelit table set for two in the middle of the room— evidently Lily had taken it upon herself to have the medovik cake she’d bought sent here when she’d picked it up for her. “Close your eyes.”

“As you wish,” she murmured.

And in her words, as always, despite having no memory of their drunken conversation three nights earlier, Anastasia heard the echo of her ‘I love you’ as she fumbled around in her clutch bag for the little remote that would ignite her surprise. 

“Okay... open.”

The moment her eyes opened, anything even remotely intelligent that she could’ve said died instantly on her lips. The white room had been completely transformed into a wide array of colours. It was like being inside her favourite painting. The floor. The walls. The ceiling. Everywhere she looked she was surrounded by a swirling haze of blue and vibrant yellows.

When Van Gogh painted The Starry Night as a swirling mass of cosmic energy, he may have been painting what he saw through his neurotic eyes, but he was also painting what he saw with transcendent eyes. The first gave his painting mere form, the second gave it formless, universal emotion that connected directly to the viewer. And as Kamilah stood there immersed in the middle of it... for a long moment she was driven speechless.

“Annie,” she breathed. “I— How did you—“

“My college friend created the exhibit,” Anastasia said softly, leaning on her shoulder. “It’s not open to the public yet, so you’re the first person to see it— because you like the painting so much I would’ve brought you here for a cute museum date anyway but I thought having it all to ourselves for a night could be really cool and—“

She cut her off with a kiss, her ancient heart beating like the wings of an eagle, taking her soaring as her lips tumbled over Anastasia’s. “No one has ever—,” she shook her head in complete disbelief and cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to avoid actually shedding tears. “First you remembered when I said it was my favourite painting and then you organise this? I— Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. Ever.”

“I’ll always remember everything about you,” Anastasia said, caressing her cheek. “And you should get used to being spoiled as much as my Millennial/Gen-Z Cusper bank account can handle.” 

The smile on the mortal’s face filled her heart with joy. How on earth had she found someone so utterly perfect?

She let out a watery laugh and the sting hit her eyelids and she hung her head because nobody had prepared her for this, nobody had said, ‘When you find The One you'll be resurrected. All that you were you will not be. All that you weren't, you are.’ She lunged against her, burying her face in her neck, holding fast.

“I— thank you,” she breathed. “More than I can express, thank you— will you share a dance with me before we sit down and enjoy our food?”

“I thought you didn’t dance?,” Anastasia smirked.

“That was before I met you.” She pulled her flush against her and began to sway gently to the classical music being carried through from the party.

Anastasia pressed a kiss to the corners of her lips. “Gossip about us will abound tomorrow.”

She chuckled. “I suspect it will abound tonight. Who knows what those vampires helping Lily find a sexual conquest will think I’m doing with you through here— I can only imagine the salacious story they’ll concoct.”

“And you don’t care,” smiled Anastasia.

“Not one bit.” She twirled her beneath her arm and then drew her back into her embrace, delighting in her happy giggling. “I have wanted to dance with you since the first ball I ever saw you attend at Marcel’s château.”

“I wanted to dance with you, too.” She paused and smiled at the memory. “But you were still so dark and mysterious then— it wasn’t until after our walk that you kind of started letting me in.”

She placed a kiss on her brow. “Truth be told, I was frightened of you. I still am. You’re a dangerous woman.”

“Why?”

“Because from the moment I set eyes on you, you have made me believe in the impossible— you have made me begin to hope again,” she whispered. “You looked so young and innocent that night, dressed in pink with your hair falling down your back. Who would have thought you were such a little hellion?”

Anastasia started laughing and she wasn’t certain whether she was striving to compliment or insult her when she playfully stuck out her tongue, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she appeared to recall as many details about that night as she did. “You remember what I was wearing?”

“I remember everything about you that night.” She gave her a wistful smile. “The shade of pink you wore looked marvellous against the shade of your hair and somehow made your eyes seem all the more striking— something cool to balance out all the warm, rosy shades of you. You wore a bejewelled decorative comb in your hair and pearls against your throat.”

“The pearls were a family heirloom that I thought fitting, given that we were wearing old fashioned costumes.” Anastasia hummed softly. “They were from the end of the eighteenth century, I believe.”

“I remember wandering into the ballroom and you were standing amongst a gaggle of newly Turned vampires, and you stood out not only because of your beauty — which far exceeded theirs — but because of your refusal to be cowed by anyone.” She paused, picturing the moment in her mind. “I was still reeling for our kiss on the train and you didn’t notice me watching you from across the room, but how I noticed you. Vampires I’ve known for centuries were marvelling at you; your poise, your beauty, your presence in that room. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous that they were noticing all the same things I admire about you so greatly— no one has ever intrigued me as you do, Annie.”

“They may have noticed me but no one has ever seen me as you do, Kami,” Anastasia whispered. “That’s something I can promise you.”

She looked down at her and caught a whiff of the jasmine fragrance of her hair. God, how she loved that smell. She’d bought four potted jasmine bushes for her office in Ahmanet just to have a tiny piece of her there with her. 

She was changed, burned, branded, destroyed and rebuilt in her presence. And she loved it. 

Sometimes she thought she needed a spare heart to feel all the things she felt for this woman.

“Come,” she whispered in her ear as the song they were dancing to drew to an end. “There is a dessert I know you like on the table.”

“Dessert?,” Anastasia said. “I only bought wine and the Carbone pasta you like— You got us dessert?”

“I did,” she smirked, pulling her chair out for her. “It’s in the shape of a heart, which is apparently very festive.”

Anastasia huffed in amusement as she sat down. “It is very festive— what is it?”

“Medovik.”

The mortal’s face lit up. “You remembered!”

“If I confess to something dreadfully embarrassing would you swear to keep it a secret?,” she smirked.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” winked Anastasia as the clinked the rims of their wine glasses together. 

“Whenever I find out a food that you dislike, I add it to a list I keep on my phone.”

Anastasia started laughing, and the sound was like music to her ears. “Oh my god— it’d be easier to write a list of the foods I do like!”

“Trust me, I am aware,” she chuckled, pulling up the list on her phone to show her. The last entry said: ‘Ketchup. She hates it everywhere but the American kind apparently tastes like plastic with sugar. Avoid at all costs.’

“Please don’t stab someone for eating bananas in my presence— That is a no knives situation!” She laughed softly. “And when did I tell you I hate ketchup? Wait... that was when I got drunk, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“I wish I could remember what happened that night— I sort of remember you arriving at the bar and being invited to a Hozier concert by these girls in the bathroom... but thats it. The next thing I have is you holding my hair back in the bathroom the next morning.”

She smiled to herself at the memory of Drunk Anastasia spilling her life story to her in the backseat of her car. It turned out that when she was that drunk, she spoke in a very muddled array of Russian and English, whilst seeming completely oblivious to the fact she was switching languages every few words— it was really quite something.

“Did I say anything embarrassing?”

“No,” she lied. She’d learned many a secret she knew her sweet mortal would be utterly mortified to know that she knew. “Your accent is a wonder, though.”

“After two drinks my i’s become ee’s and my h’s become g’s. Articles? Never heard of them.” Anastasia’s cheeks flushed pink. “You’d literally think I didn’t know a word of English.”

She reached across the table to pat her hand. “The way you speak is beautiful. All the time.”

“Even when I’m drunk and not softening my accent?,” Anastasia laughed weakly. “I actually kind of hate the way some things I say sound English because I lived in England for so long, yet most things still sound very Kazakhstani to foreigners but in Kazakhstan even when I’m speaking my native languages they think I now speak with an accent!”

“You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard,” she said honestly. “It’s like music to my ears, even when you’re not softening it— especially when you’re not softening it. I like the way my name sounds when you say it.” A smile spread across her face and she didn’t bother to try to hide it. “How the i is always an ee— it’s very sweet.”

Anastasia’s cheeks were now scarlet and she tried and failed to hide it with a sip of her wine. “Your name is one of the words that the short i sound is really hard for me to get like a native speaker for some reason— like, some words are really easy and then others just don’t work.”

“I constantly got the letters b and p mixed up for a few years when I began learning English, so my accent and my sentence structure was truly atrocious,” she laughed. “It’s a difficult language— I just need you to promise me that you’ll always say my name the way you do now. I simply will not stand for being anything less than your Kam-ee-la.”

“Like it that much, Kamilah?,” smirked Anastasia.

She sighed happily and nodded. “Indeed I do.”

The conversation and laughter continued to pass easily between them as they ate. Little by little, Kamilah felt her walls coming down with every word that left her mouth. Telling Anastasia a little of her struggle to learn English might’ve seemed like a small thing, an unimportant thing, but it was something she’d never shared with anyone else. Not even Adrian knew that she’d ever spoken with anything less than the intimidating cut-glass accent that could silence a crowded room with a single word. 

As they spoke, Anastasia told her more about she wound up in New York after going to school in England. She told her how close she’d come to moving to Paris instead— and her first thought was how her dear Serafine would’ve reacted if she’d crossed paths with her before she had. Serafine had always had a very similar taste in women to her— and the mere thought became so seared into her brain that she made a mental note to keep a close eye on her friend when she eventually introduced her to Anastasia.

Her poor, sweet mortal would be eaten alive by Serafine if the horny old fool was given half a chance to get her hands on her.

She also thrilled Anastasia with tales of her travels over the centuries, leaving out any blood and gore as not to ruin their romantic evening inside a Van Gogh masterpiece. It was so easy just to talk to her... about everything, anything. She really felt like Anastasia was listening to her every word and somehow found herself remembering the tiniest of details that she hadn’t thought of in centuries.

She rambled on, paying scant attention to her words, simply letting them and all the images she had been sure she’d long forgotten come tumbling out of her mouth, painting a vibrant, fanciful, yet in many ways — all the ways that counted — accurate word picture of her favourite moments, her story. Her vision of the events that had led her to this moment on her life when they were together.

The girl really was a magnificent conversationalist, by both mortal and vampire standards. Kamilah found herself enchanted by every word that left her mouth, no matter what she was talking about. To fall in love with someone's thoughts — it was the most intimate and splendid romance.

They talked and talked all through their meal, never running out of things to say. Even when they made their way back to The East Village, the conversation and laughter never once halted. She didn’t even mind taking the subway because she was somehow absolutely enraptured in Anastasia’s ideas to help Raines Corp conquer space— she didn’t understand one bit of the scientific jargon and complex mathematical formulas she would rhyme off whilst explaining how each of her ideas would work. But, god, was her excitement contagious.

“Now, tell me,” she said as they walked hand in hand up the steps of the subway station closest to Anastasia’s building, “is taking you upstairs and devouring you part of the authentic mortal Valentine’s Day experience?”

“Yes,” Anastasia said quickly with a smile on her face.

Kamilah bit down on her bottom lip and drew her into a kiss. She intended to take her upstairs and make love to her until they were both spent, it was that simple — and she let her read the truth in her eyes. 

Then Anastasia shivered, so she immediately took off her blazer and wrapped it over her shoulders. 

“Kami, you don’t have to— I don’t want you to be cold.”

Releasing the fine silk, she closed her hands about her shoulders; leaning closer, she murmured, "As with other pleasures, my reward is your delight.”

They made it up to Anastasia’s apartment in a dizzy haze of kisses and wandering hands. The mortal’s gentle exploration of her body always sparked the realisation that love did not equal pain, and somehow each time the notion hit her, it hit harder than the last.

At the beginning of their relationship, there was nothing Kamilah would rather have done than fuck her. That was exactly what Anastasia had wanted, too. She had not wanted her to make love to her like a perfect romantic gentlewoman — nor had Kamilah felt she’d had the emotional capability of doing such a thing. So their first few intimate weeks together had been pounding into each other, fooling themselves into believing that the sex they were having wasn’t always something far more than they wanted to admit. 

Kamilah had tied her down and had her beg a thousand times. She had licked every inch of her body until she was so wet with need that she almost slid out of her on every damned stroke— and she’d very quickly realised that for once in her life she was hopelessly and delightfully out-kinked by someone.

But this, the slow, gentle way they touched one another on that night was still very new for them both. They rocked against each other, seemingly deeper and harder than ever before. The bed began to creak with their every movement, but they were so lost in the depths of their desire that they couldn’t have cared.

As Anastasia’s head sank down between her legs and the fear she’d experienced with almost every other partner once again did not arise, she realised that there were no more chances to protect herself, her heart... and for that she was unspeakably glad. With a shiver, she released all the tension in her body and gave herself over to her sweet mortal entirely. Her body. Her soul. And her love. Her love for her washed over her just as her orgasm did, sweeping her through a pleasure so powerful that it overwhelmed and threatened to destroy her. And she didn’t care. She would rather burn in the fire of her love than to drown without her.

And they kept going.

And going.

Until Kamilah finally went limp over her, cradling her to her as their panting breaths merged into one over seconds, moments. Anastasia clung to her muscular frame, smoothing her hands over her bare back, pressing her lips to her flesh as Kamilah adjusted the blankets around them and then drew her into her embrace — the image of the stars on the night they’d met already hung above the bed, looking down on them once again.

“If that is how Valentine’s Day is celebrated... we ought to do it again next year,” she said breathily, tracing the same little circle over and over on the back of her shoulder.

“And the year after that, too?”

“And the one after that. And after that— then on and on for as long as you’ll have me.”

Anastasia pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, her thumb slowly tracing the sharp line of her jaw. “That sounds perfect— I really, really love my gift.”

She glanced up at the stars above the bed and smiled. When she spoke, her voice was the gentlest of whispered, “Let us make a wish.”

They each took a moment of silence, staring up at their very own starry night on the wall.

“What did you wish for?,” she asked after a moment.

“For you to have peace with your wish.”

“Well,” she murmured, pressing her brow to hers, “it appears both of our wishes have already come true.”

Kamilah held Anastasia as close to her as it was possible to as she slowly drifted off, exhausted from their night of passion. In the dying candlelight, her sweet face was relaxed in sleep. She was so beautiful, so perfect. 

She and Anastasia, they were not the same. Yet somehow they fit together perfectly.

She loved her so dearly — if felt like she’d always loved her, like this thing between them had started long before they’d ever even touched. She saw that now, looking back down the months she’d had her. She’d loved her from the time Anastasia had walked into that conference room and given Cecil an attitude — the instant she’d truly laid eyes on her.

She’d tried to hold herself aloof, hold away — hold her at bay, too — believing, wrongly, that she wasn't an appropriate lover for her.

In that, she'd been wrong, too.

She saw it all. And as the tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, she knew to her soul how right she was for her. Knew, embraced, and silently rejoiced.

She brushed a lock of long red hair from her forehead and she did not stir with the motion. She smiled, but the expression faded as a strong desire welled up in her. A desire to say something she had only told her once before. She touched her face again, to be certain she was not awake. When she didn’t move or react, she drew a swift breath, and let it out on the words, “I love you — more than I've ever loved anyone. I love you so profoundly it goes beyond all reason. And I could never let you go — let you be taken from me by any means — that would be the same as letting life itself go, because you are life to me.” She kissed her forehead gently. “What will I do if time takes you from me? Please... please stay. Let me be enough to keep you.”

~ fin.


End file.
